Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

his eyes, and seeing Rosa standing near the door, he said,

without laying down his pen, —

“Come here, my child.”

Rosa advanced a few steps towards the table.

“Sit down,” he said.

Rosa obeyed, for the Prince was fixing his eyes upon her,

but he had scarcely turned them again to his paper when she

bashfully retired to the door.

The Prince finished his letter.

During this time, the greyhound went up to Rosa, surveyed

her and began to caress her.

“Ah, ah!” said William to his dog, “it’s easy to see that

she is a countrywoman of yours, and that you recognise her.”

Then, turning towards Rosa, and fixing on her his

scrutinising, and at the same time impenetrable glance, he

said, —

“Now, my child.”

The Prince was scarcely twenty-three, and Rosa eighteen or

twenty. He might therefore perhaps better have said, My

sister.

“My child,” he said, with that strangely commanding accent

which chilled all those who approached him, “we are alone;

let us speak together.”

Page 167

Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

Rosa began to tremble, and yet there was nothing but

kindness in the expression of the Prince’s face.

“Monseigneur,” she stammered.

“You have a father at Loewestein?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“You do not love him?”

“I do not; at least, not as a daughter ought to do,

Monseigneur.”

“It is not right not to love one’s father, but it is right

not to tell a falsehood.”

Rosa cast her eyes to the ground.

“What is the reason of your not loving your father?”

“He is wicked.”

“In what way does he show his wickedness?”

“He ill-treats the prisoners.”

“All of them?”

“All.”

“But don’t you bear him a grudge for ill-treating some one

in particular?”

“My father ill-treats in particular Mynheer van Baerle, who

—- ”

“Who is your lover?”

Rosa started back a step.

“Whom I love, Monseigneur,” she answered proudly.

“Since when?” asked the Prince.

“Since the day when I first saw him.”

“And when was that?”

“The day after that on which the Grand Pensionary John and

his brother Cornelius met with such an awful death.”

The Prince compressed his lips, and knit his brow and his

eyelids dropped so as to hide his eyes for an instant. After

a momentary silence, he resumed the conversation.

“But to what can it lead to love a man who is doomed to live

and die in prison?”

“It will lead, if he lives and dies in prison, to my aiding

him in life and in death.”

“And would you accept the lot of being the wife of a

Page 168

Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

prisoner?”

“As the wife of Mynheer van Baerle, I should, under any

circumstances, be the proudest and happiest woman in the

world; but —- ”

“But what?”

“I dare not say, Monseigneur.”

“There is something like hope in your tone; what do you

hope?”

She raised her moist and beautiful eyes, and looked at

William with a glance full of meaning, which was calculated

to stir up in the recesses of his heart the clemency which

was slumbering there.

“Ah, I understand you,” he said.

Rosa, with a smile, clasped her hands.

“You hope in me?” said the Prince.

“Yes, Monseigneur.”

“Umph!”

The Prince sealed the letter which he had just written, and

summoned one of his officers, to whom he said, —

“Captain van Deken, carry this despatch to Loewestein; you

will read the orders which I give to the Governor, and

execute them as far as they regard you.”

The officer bowed, and a few minutes afterwards the gallop

of a horse was heard resounding in the vaulted archway.

“My child,” continued the Prince, “the feast of the tulip

will be on Sunday next, that is to say, the day after

to-morrow. Make yourself smart with these five hundred

guilders, as I wish that day to be a great day for you.”

“How does your Highness wish me to be dressed?” faltered

Rosa.

“Take the costume of a Frisian bride.” said William; “it

will suit you very well indeed.”

Chapter 31

Haarlem

Haarlem, whither, three days ago, we conducted our gentle

reader, and whither we request him to follow us once more in